


Dealing a New Hand

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Casino Royale (2006)
Genre: M/M, Movie AU, Villiers goes instead, What if they had found out about Vesper before the mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vesper raises red flag with MI6 before the mission to Montenegro. M sends Villiers to take her place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dealing a New Hand

**Author's Note:**

> There just wasn’t enough of Villiers in the movie. That’s my way of remedying to that.

For once, Bond reflected as he looked over the menu, the mission might go off without a hitch. Poker was _his_ game. He never lost. 

But then he looked up and saw M’s assistant walking toward him. Considering he was on a train on its way to Montenegro, that wasn’t normal.

“A bit far away from M’s office, aren’t you?” he asked nonchalantly when Villiers sat down across from him. The man looked slightly put-upon, and it was not hard to deduce he’d rather not be here.

“There were some… security issues with the representative from the Treasury,” Villiers said with a slight frown. “There was no time to check out anyone else.”

“So M sent you instead. How dreadful. Who will answer her phone while you’re away?”

Villiers’ eyes narrowed. “I’m sure her _secretary_ will. Now, if you will just listen to me instead of yourself for a second, that would be helpful. The Treasury has agreed to stake you the money for the game and it has been wired into your bank account in Montenegro. If you need any more, I’ll be the one authorizing the transfer of the funds. Any questions?”

“Just one.” Bond’s eyes were twinkling and Villiers braced himself. “Hungry? I hear the lamb is delicious.”

 

_‘Lunch had been entertaining,’_ James thought when he got back to his cabin. Powering up his computer, he logged in on MI-6’s secure network and pulled out Villiers’ file, wondering briefly how long it would take M to react.

Sure enough, he had only been perusing it for two minutes when his cell phone rang.

“Will you stop accessing restricted data with my password?” M’s annoyed voice resonated in his ear.

“I had no idea personnel files were restricted.”

“Listen, Bond. I sent Villiers. He’s good and he _is_ qualified for the job, or he wouldn’t be there. And he knows poker. That’s all you need to know.”

“You expect me to trust that man on the sole basis of your say so? I need more information if he’s going to be my back-up.”

“He is _not_ supposed to be your back-up. He isn’t field-rated, as you very well know. So you bring him home in one piece. And try not to drive him crazy either. I wouldn’t want him to quit.”

With that M hung up, and Bond could almost see her slamming the phone down. He shrugged and went back to reading.

 

He met up with Villiers again at breakfast the next day. By the way the man’s jaw worked when Bond sat in front of him with a smile on his face, he wasn’t warming up to him – yet.

“So tell me, _John_ , what does Richard think of you being here?”

Villiers’ face changed colors at very interesting speeds for the next few moments he stared at Bond with something akin to disbelief.

“You read my file,” he finally said coldly, “so you know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah… Sorry about that. Men!” Bond rolled his eyes in mock sympathy. In truth, he couldn’t care less about Villiers’ little boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend, as it turned out. But baiting Villiers had always been a very amusing pastime and he had just gotten a whole new range of ammunition.

“Sleep well?” he went on as is they had just been talking about the weather and Villiers glared at him.

Oh yes, it was fun.

\---

When they got off the train and into a cab, James took that time to go through their cover.

“Would you look at that,” he brandished the papers in Villiers’ general direction. “Apparently, we’re very much in love!”

Villiers’s eyes widened, and he made a move to grab the papers from Bond who lazily moved them out of his reach. 

“Yes… which explains why we’ll be sharing a room.”

“Give me that,” Villiers hissed and finally managed to catch the papers, his eyes skimming over them. 

Bond was now smirking openly as he relaxed against the backseat.

_Lots_ of fun.

\---

Unfortunately – Bond had to admit – they weren’t supposed to be lovers, but business partners. They were still sharing a suite though, and the part of his mind that wasn’t focused on the job was already coming up with ways to use that to his advantage.

Smiling charmingly at the receptionist, he was already opening his mouth when Villiers cut in.

“We have a reservation under the name of Beech.”

Hum. Clearly, Villiers knew him well.

“Thank you, _honey_.” Bond turned the smile on Villiers and enjoyed seeing him blush _and_ glare at the same time. “Would you mind signing that?”

“Thank you, sir.” The woman smiled at Villiers and handed him a package. “This was waiting for you.”

Villiers smiled back politely – that was Villiers, always polite – and neatly sidestepped Bond’s attempt to intercept the package so James had to wait patiently ‘til Villiers handed him a file and car keys, and kept the rest for himself.

“That’s not very nice, you know. We’re supposed to share everything.”

Villiers rolled his eyes, but he was looking faintly amused when the elevator doors closed behind him and Bond figured it was a small victory. Not that he cared if the man liked him or not, of course.

So he went to check out the car instead.

\---

“Our local contact is a man named René Mathis. We’re meeting him in an hour,” Villiers informed him when he got to the suite – nice suite, too.

Their bags had found their way there as well, and Bond considered taking the wrong one to investigate further before discarding the idea. He wouldn’t want to antagonize Villiers too much this soon into the mission.

“Anything else?” he asked instead, following the man into his bedroom just for the sheer pleasure of it.

Villiers glanced at him warningly, crossing his arms as Bond leaned casually on the door frame.

“Actually, yes. Miss Lynd, the woman from the Treasury, talked. It seems she made a deal with the organisation behind Le Chiffre to save her boyfriend’s life.” Villiers ignored Bond’s muttered comment about women and love and the sheer idiocy of it, deciding he didn’t want to know, and continued, “She has provided a name – White. He’s the man in contact with Le Chiffre.”

“Where is he now?” Bond asked.

“We don’t know. M has people looking for him as we speak. Now, if you wouldn’t mind…” Villiers gestured for the door, the ‘leave me alone’ unmistakable.

James complied.

\---

“You know,” Bond said conversationally as he strolled around the room, being a general nuisance. He was bored. The meeting with Mathis had gone well and now he had nothing else to do but wait. And a bored 007 was a dangerous 007. “Had you been a woman, you could have made yourself useful and distracted the other players. Unfortunately…” and now he made a show of looking a little forlorn, “your figure won’t quite work with the dress I had in mind. Although…”

A speculative look crossed his face, and Villiers’s eyes widened.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Bond grinned. “Shame, really. I’m sure you could have made it work.”

Villiers looked ready to throw the nearest thing at him and, considering it was a heavy-looking statute, Bond deemed it wiser to retreat into his own room…

…before striding back in a few seconds later.

“What’s this?” Bond asked, outraged, holding up a jacket.

Villiers glanced back at him briefly before going back to his laptop. “ _That_ would be a dinner jacket.”

“I’ve already got one.”

“Don’t be difficult. Besides, M wants you to wear it.”

“But it’s _tailored_ ,” and no, James Bond was _not_ whining.

“Your measurements are in your file.” And the brief smirk that crossed Villiers’ face really shouldn’t be appealing, except it was.

James stormed out of the room. And put on the jacket. Though he would never admit it, it was kind of nice.

\---

Villiers arrived with the other guests about thirty minutes after Bond and ignored him completely, joining Mathis at the bar. And Bond found himself looking him up and down, his attention diverted from the game.

It would appear the man could be _very_ distracting even without a dress.

Oh, right. He was supposed to play poker.

Let’s focus.

 

Predictably, the first hand didn’t go well, but he trusted Villiers’ knowledge of poker not to hold it against him. It had been Villiers, after all, who had suggested him for this assignment. He had to have some ideas as to what he was doing.

And he had found Le Chiffre’s tell so it was worth it. In fact, he felt positively giddy. He was going to win this game. And felt like celebrating in advance.

Getting up from his seat, he joined Mathis and Villiers at the bar and proceeded to kiss the latter soundly on the lips – quite aware the entire room was looking at them – and enjoying himself profoundly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Villiers sputtered, pushing him away.

“I found his tell and I’m celebrating.”

“By kissing me?” Villiers asked indignantly just as Mathis said, “His tell?”

All business again, Bond proceeded to explain to Mathis the joys of poker – while Villiers seethed next to them – and retrieved the bug Mathis pushed towards him before returning to his seat with a last fleeting smirk in Villiers’s general direction.

 

It was another four hours before they took a break and Bond planted his bug before sidling next to Villiers, whose eyes narrowed at his approach.

“You want to do WHAT to me?” James said loud enough for the entire room to hear when he got close enough to Villiers who predictably turned bright red. It was just his luck, really. He was probably the only man still capable of blushing in the entire MI6 and he was stuck with Bond.

“Will you stop that?”

“Not sure I can. I like seeing you blush.”

Shaking his head, Villiers sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s part of my charm, I’ve been told.”

Villiers looked highly unconvinced, and James grinned unrepentantly.

“Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”

Which they did, Bond walking way too close to Villiers to be mere casual acquaintances and by the dark looks Villiers kept shooting him, only one of them was enjoying this – for now. Bond was fully inclined to making Villiers – John – warm up to him.

 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t going to happen right now. A muffled scream resonated in the corridor as they approached Le Chiffre’s suite and they both tensed. Bond took point and turned back towards the other man.

“Wait for me in our room.”

“I can…”

“You’re not field-rated. And M would kill me if something happened to you. Go back to our room _now_.”

Thankfully, Villiers didn’t argue this time. However, a quick glance back showed that the elevator was on its way down.

“I’ll take the stairs,” he said and was on his way to do just that when the handle of Le Chiffre’s room moved and Bond had no other choice but to forcefully push him inside the stairwell, pin him to the wall and kiss him – well actually, he didn’t have to kiss him, but where would be the fun if he didn’t? Villiers went along with it this time and fuck, the man could kiss. It was _good_ , a little too good even, considering he had a job to do – which right now consisted in keeping them both alive. He couldn’t afford being distracted.

Especially when they were being shot at.

The first man was easy to get rid of. The second, however, was being a pain. And Bond wanted to check on Villiers, see how far ahead he was, except he couldn’t look away or he would find himself cut into pieces. So Bond concentrated on _not_ being run through and let Villiers take care of himself. 

They had almost reached the bottom of the stairs – and he didn’t have the upper hand, as much as it pained him to admit – when his attacker yelled, grabbing his arm, and Bond didn’t question it, just used the momentum to send him sprawling on the ground and kick the blade out of his hand. After another kick for good measure – and to make sure he was staying down for the time being – he finally looked around, coming across Villiers with a gun – _his_ gun – in his hand.

“Give me,” he yelled, and caught it when Villiers threw the gun at him, sending a bullet into the downed man’s head.

And then it was over, their harsh breaths the only sound that filled the air.

Bond looked back at Villiers, who was staring blankly at the dead man, and he remembered it wasn’t part of Villiers’ job description to shoot people. Or even come in close contact with them.

“Listen to me,” he said, taking a step towards him. Villiers’ blank look transferred to him, or more precisely his shirt – bloody, no surprise there. “You did good, you did very good. Now I need you to find Mathis, tell him I’ve hidden the bodies down here, okay?”

Steering him towards the door, he waited until Villiers had nodded and was gone before turning back towards the dead men, sighing. He wasn’t good at this – the dealing with Villiers part. Women he could handle. They were easy. A quick smile here and a witty word there, and they were eating out of his hand. Men though… men were harder. He either killed them or, when he got the urge, fucked them. He didn’t make friends with them. And he certainly didn’t offer comfort and sympathy. Then again, he was pretty sure Villiers wouldn’t appreciate it if he tried.

When had things gotten so complicated?

\---

When Bond came back to the room later that evening after another round of poker, he found Villiers sitting at the desk, typing on his computer as if nothing had happened. Bond had to hand it to him – he was doing a good job at pretending.

“Are you okay?” he asked anyway.

Villiers barely looked at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just asking.”

Bond wandered behind the other man to see what had him so engrossed. Unsurprisingly, he was working. Pictures from the men sharing the poker table with him stared back at him, taken this evening from the looks of it. Villiers had obviously been busy.

“Found anything interesting?”

“Uh?”

Clearly, Villiers wasn’t as focused – or ‘fine’ – as he pretended to be.

“I said, anything good?”

Villiers nodded, bringing the picture of the black man who sat on Bond’s right to the forefront.

“It seems the CIA is as interested in Le Chiffre as we are. This is Felix Leiter. Apart from that, the other players are nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Good, good. You should get some sleep.”

Villiers didn’t appear to have heard him though and was back at staring at the screen. James knew he wasn’t really seeing it. Reaching over his shoulder, he clicked the laptop shut and pulled John to his feet.

“What…?”

“I said bed.”

Villiers looked deeply affronted and Bond snorted. “Believe me or not, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re going to your bed, and I’m going to mine. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh. Right.” Villiers sounded vaguely disappointed and it was just James’s luck that he had decided to be nice. “Well, good night then.”

“Yeah. Good night.”

And if he found himself looking in on Villiers from time to time during the night, well, he was just obeying M’s orders, wasn’t he?

\---

The next evening, things were going less than well. Or rather, they had been going very well, Bond confident he had Le Chiffre all figured out, until he found himself with no chips left. Le Chiffre had played him, and Bond was _not_ pleased.

“I’m going to need those five millions, John,” he told Villiers who looked at him carefully, weighing.

“Look, I know I made a mistake. But I also know I can win this.”

“I know you can. What I _don’t_ know is whether you’re going to let your ego get the better of you this time. So? Tell me, _James_.”

Bond kissed him instead. It went on and on, until Villiers came back to his senses. Too soon, in his opinion. Maybe he was losing his touch. Or Villiers was immune.

“Will you stop doing that? It does nothing to convince me.” Villiers sounded annoyed, and for once, Bond didn’t find it amusing.

“I know it doesn’t. I just wanted to.”

Pushing himself off the balcony, he headed back for the door, pausing at the threshold.

“I _will_ win this game. And that’s not my ego talking.”

Then he went back inside, leaving Villiers to ponder his words. All of them.

 

Five minutes later, John slid next to him at the bar.

“The money has been wired. M wishes you luck,” he said. “And please stop kissing me.”

“You know you’ll regret that?”

“Which part?” Villiers asked wryly, and Bond chuckled.

Not that immune after all. 

 

And so the game went on. And it went well. James was more careful this time, less rash, knowing full well Villiers was watching and there would be hell to pay if he let his arrogance get the better of him.

Nodding at the waitress who deposited his drink next to him, he took a gulp of it and… there was something wrong. Something in his drink. Shit. Stumbling up, he threw a couple of chips on the table before rushing out to of the room. Throwing up in the bathroom didn’t make anything better.

Villiers found him bent over the basin and he was asking him something except Bond couldn’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood in his ears. 

“Car,” he mumbled, pushing past Villiers with sheer single-mindedness. “Got to get to the car.”

Stumbling out of the restroom, he barely made it to his car, Villiers close behind. He could hear him distantly, talking on his cell phone, and good, he had gotten through to Medical.

“Here, sit,” Villiers ordered, pushing him roughly in the car. He opened the hidden compartment, grabbed what he needed and pushed the needle in Bond’s vein.

“I’m sending it over to you right now,” he said to whoever was on the other side of the phone, and really Bond hoped they would find something quick because he was starting to feel strangely disconnected. 

“His symptoms?” Villiers rip Bond’s shirt open, and James really wanted to make a comment on that, it was too good to pass up, except he was too tired. John applied the defibrillator patches to his chest, and he tried to help, except he must have been more of a hindrance because John batted his hands away. And John was a nice name, wasn’t it? It fit him. And it was close to James too. John, James. Fate, really. His mind drifting, Bond tried to concentrate on what John was saying. It was nice to know there was someone there, someone he could trust, who was handling everything, taking care of him. Hum. That was something new. Since when did he like being taken care of? And he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep for a while, really. No. Had to stay awake.

“Digitalis? What do I give him?”

A sharp pain in his neck made him hiss.

“Bond? James, listen to me. This is going to hurt.”

‘What is?’ he wanted to ask, especially when nothing happened, but the words felt empty in his mouth. 

“Shit. What… I’ve got it.”

And this time, it did hurt, like a son of a bitch. Panting, he stared at the ceiling of his car, trying to catch his breath. Villiers’ face loomed in front of him, paler than usual.

“You okay?” he croaked and Villiers closed his eyes briefly, relief etched all over his face.

“I’m great. How about you?”

“Just peachy.” Looking down at his open shirt, and back at John, he added: “You just couldn’t wait to take my shirt off, could you?”

Villiers snorted, and reached for his phone again. “Yeah, he is fine.”

Disconnecting the call, he helped Bond up, assessing him with sharp eyes.

“Can you play? Or do you need to go to a hospital? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Oh, I’m playing.”

No way was he letting that asshole get the better of him.

 

And play he did. And won.

“Congratulations.” Villiers was grinning, and it was a good look on him. Then again, Bond was coming to believe that everything looked good on him.

“Let’s celebrate,” James said, dragging him out of the room before Villiers dug his heels in.

“I’m calling M first,” he stated firmly and Bond raised his hands in the air.

“Fine, go ahead.”

Getting himself another drink, he waited not so patiently for the phone call to end, looking at Villiers as he talked to his employer and liking what he saw. Nothing new there. When Villiers snapped the phone shut and turned back towards Bond, he made no secret of his appreciation. John didn’t blush this time, just raised an eyebrow. Good. He was learning.

“Finally. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

But Villiers was already shaking his head. What now?

“You go ahead. M wants me to make contact with Le Chiffre, let him know our offer. She has a team standing by.”

Bond frowned. “You?”

“I can handle it.” Now, Villiers looked annoyed. “And Mathis is coming with me.”

“I’m going too.”

Villiers snorted and Bond tried hard not to be affronted.

“Don’t. I think you’re the last person Le Chiffre wants to see right now.”

“Fine. I’ll order. You hurry.”

Bond watched Villiers head for the elevators and get in before he made his way to the restaurant. The place was deserted and it was just as well. He was feeling unsettled. As if there was something right there in front of him, something important, except he couldn’t see it. And he didn’t like it, didn’t like it one bit. Villiers would be fine. Mathis was… He froze.

“Mathis!”

He should have seen this earlier. And now Villiers was… FUCK.

And he had no idea where they were meeting Le Chiffre. Taking a wild guess, he ran out of the restaurant and to Le Chiffre’s suite, barging in with his gun drawn. It was empty.

Except it wasn’t and he never saw anyone before he was struck on the head, sending him sprawling on the floor, into darkness.

 

When he came to, he was in a car next to Villiers, who didn’t look too good either, blood trickling down the side of his face. His head hurt, and his arm hurt too for some reason. He tried glancing down but his hands were tied behind his back.

“What happened?” he asked, still feeling a little fuzzy around the edges.

“They took your tracker out,” Villiers whispered back. “Mathis is working for them.”

Oh. Right.

They were kind of fucked right now.

He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder their situation however, as the car they were in came to a stop and they were dragged outside and into a dilapidated warehouse.

This kept getting better and better.

They pulled Villiers to a separate room and Bond found himself alone with Le Chiffre. But there was no way he was telling him anything, and there was pain everywhere in his body. 

As he hit the ground, he knew he was going to die. And he almost – _almost_ – welcomed it, except there was the fleeting regret that he was taking Villiers down with him, and that he wouldn’t have minded kissing him again. Too late for that now.

Then there were loud noises and gunfire around him but Bond was too far gone to notice or care.

He fell into the dark.

 

When he came to – or rather, when he was fully conscious and coherent again – it was to see Villiers on the phone next to him.

“Hey. You’re in a hospital, I’m sure you’re not allowed to use those.”

“He is awake,” Villiers informed whoever he was on the phone with – M, most likely – and disconnected the call. “How are you feeling?”

James shrugged. “Not much. Good drugs.”

“Do you need anything?” Villiers looked reasonably worried, and hey, that was kind of cool.

“What happened?” he asked instead.

“M sent the intervention team looking for us when I didn’t make contact again.”

“How did they find us?”

Villiers looked a little sheepish at that and raised his arm. “Tracker. They’re not just to keep an eye on you, you know.”

“Oh. Good.”

Then he was already drifting back to sleep. Too bad. He had been meaning to try kissing John again.

 

The next time, he was awake longer, and the one after that, too. John wasn’t always there, but he was most of the time. Therefore, Bond magnanimously forgave his absences. The man had to sleep and eat, after all.

Every time, he grew stronger and slowly they weaned him off the drugs and it didn’t hurt too bad ‘down there’. It didn’t look too bad either – he had checked. Which was good, considering he intended to use that part of his anatomy again – soon, if he had any say in the matter.

Talk about the devil… There was John, with a waving Mr Mendel following him. Right. The money. He had won 115 million. 

Somehow, he didn’t think the Treasury – or Villiers – was going to let him keep that.

“Mr Bond!” Mendel beamed. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Much. How do we do this?”

“If you would enter the account number,” Mendel said and Bond gestured to Villiers to go ahead, which he did.

“Now, the password.”

“Oh, you can do that too,” James informed Villiers with a smile. That had been a great idea. Villiers however sighed and shook his head.

“What did you do this time?”

But the look on his face betrayed his words, more fond exasperation than true annoyance, and James congratulated himself.

“Go on. V-I-L-L-I…”

Getting the message, Villiers rolled his eyes.

“You _are_ impossible.”

“Nah. I just enjoy making your life livelier.”

John snorted at that. “You certainly do.”

Mendel excused himself then and Bond refocused his attention on John.

“Are you going to hit me in the groin if I kiss you right now? Because I’d rather know now instead of…”

John shut him up with a kiss.

“That answer your question?” Villiers asked rather smugly when they broke apart for air. “Now, we have a plane back to London tomorrow and…”

“What? I don’t even get a vacation?”

“You do. I don’t. M expects me back to work on Monday. They’ve located Mr White and…”

“You know, we could elope.”

John outright laughed at him, which wasn’t really nice. “Right. And she wouldn’t know where to find us. And no, you’re not cutting my arm open.”

“Fine. What time is the plane?”

“Eleven a.m., why?” John asked suspiciously.

“Just wondering…” James answered before getting up and tugging Villiers towards his room.

They would be busy ‘til then.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
